


The Message

by still_lycoris



Category: X-Men: Apocalypse (2016) - Fandom
Genre: Attempted Seduction, Defiance, M/M, Missing Scene, Temptation, Trauma, Voyeurism, unwanted arousal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-12 22:22:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7124620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_lycoris/pseuds/still_lycoris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Apocalypse tries different methods to convince Charles to obey him. Charles resists.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Message

“You don’t need a machine. You have me.”

Charles lifted his chin and stared the man – because it _was_ just a man – straight in the eye.

“I don’t care. I will not do what you ask..”

He waited to see what Apocalypse would do now. Torture seemed most likely. He tried to prepare himself mentally for it. He had experienced pain before, he would find a way to endure whatever came now. He could do this.

Apocalypse smiled, a strange and dark smile. He tilted his head very slightly and stared down at Charles. Charles was reminded of a bird of prey looking down at a mouse. He kept his head up and his eyes as cold as he could. He would not be frightened of this man. He would not. He was stronger and better than that. He might not be able to stand, he might not be able to fight physically but he wouldn’t let himself be afraid, even so.

“Why do you resist me, Charles?” Apocalypse’s voice was soft.

Charles kept his head up and didn’t bother to answer. Why should he? Apocalypse knew perfectly well why Charles fought. Certainly, he didn’t seem surprised by Charles’s silence. In fact, his smile seemed to grow a little. Definitely a predator inspecting prey. 

Well, Charles was _nobody’s_ prey.

“You fight so hard,” Apocalypse’s voice was soft, almost melodious. “Why, Charles? Why do you struggle against what is best?”

“ _This_ is not the best for anyone! I will _always_ struggle against what is wrong!”

Apocalypse reached out a hand and cupped Charles’s face. Charles tried to yank back but the fingers tightened, pinching his chin, holding him in place. Apocalypse was far too close to him now and he fought not to struggle ineffectually, to hold himself still and not reveal even a flicker of fear.

“You are a strong fighter,” Apocalypse said and there was admiration in his tone. “I saw that when I was inside your mind.”

Charles couldn’t stop himself shuddering at the reminder of what had happened in Cerebro. All those voices and minds, he was used to that but to suddenly have something else, something dark and powerful, gloriously, overwhelmingly powerful …

He didn’t want to think about how that power had made him feel. The seductiveness of it, the strength pouring in and out of him, being everywhere and everyone …

“Yes,” Apocalypse murmured, soft and close to his ear. “It feels good to embrace your true self, everything that you can be. Don’t resist it, Charles. Embrace it. _Welcome_ it.”

His hand was no longer gripping. It was holding, almost caressing. Thick, heavy fingers stroked over Charles’s skin and he shivered.

“No,” he said, not quite sure what he was refusing. This close, he could feel Apocalypse’s power again, heavy over his head. He felt dizzy from it. He needed to concentrate, needed to think but it was hard. He was too hot, Apocalypse was too close and his hand was distractingly gentle as it moved over Charles’s cheek.

“You only felt the merest taste of it before,” Apocalypse’s voice was so soft now that it was practically a whisper. His fingers brushed over Charles’s lips and without thinking, Charles parted them, feeling Apocalypse’s fingertips touch the soft inside of his mouth.

“Would you like another taste, Charles?”

“No,” Charles whispered, voice unconvincing even to his own ears. “No … ”

Apocalypse’s hand stroked his neck, tipping his head back. Charles let himself be tipped. Apocalypse’s hand was so soft, so gentle …

_How long has it been, Charles? How long since you allowed yourself to be truly close to another?_

He was barely aware that Apocalypse was in his mind now. How long? He couldn’t remember. He hadn’t let himself for a long time, hadn’t … he had the school, he had to be discreet and there was no one, nobody …

_You do not have to hide._

Apocalypse’s mouth brushed over his, slow, gentle. His power stroked over Charles’s mind, inviting, promising …

Charles kissed back. He couldn’t seem to help it. Apocalypse’s kiss deepened, dark and hot and this was wrong, so wrong, why wasn’t he stopping himself? Why was he leaning up into the kiss, why were his hands slowly moving to stroke Apocalypse’s arms, why was his mind itching to open to that power?

_Because you know it is right. Open yourself to me …_

Apocalypse’s hands stroked down his chest, slow and delicate, teasing. Charles felt almost as though he was drowning. He tried to open his eyes to re-orient himself but all he could see was Apocalypse’s power; darkness spangled with spirals of stars, nebula clouds, planets, the universe. He was floating in it, wrapped in Apocalypse’s gentle embrace and it was _beautiful_ , glorious, he wanted to touch it, he wanted to wrap himself in its beauty, feel it rush through his veins like a drug …

“NO!”

He pushed himself back, twisted his face away from that deceptively gentle mouth. His vision returned as the power receded, just a little.

“ _Never_ ,” he whispered, trying to get his breathing under control, hating that his body still ached with thwarted arousal, that a traitorous part of him still wanted to press close and touch and _be_ touched ...

“Oh, you will give me what I want, Charles.”

Apocalypse didn’t sound angry. More considering, thoughtful. Charles knew that he was in trouble.

Suddenly, his clothes had fallen into glittering dust around him and he was naked on the harsh rocks, vulnerable under the sun. Apocalypse loomed over him, a black shadow. Slowly, his own clothes and armour began to reform and then he bent and grabbed Charles, flipping him over easily. Charles caught himself on his hands just in time to stop himself landing on his face, cringing at the pain of it, knowing worse was to come. He was flat on the ground and he could only lift himself with his elbows, so he did.

“It’s to be this, is it?” he spat, turning to stare defiantly into Apocalypse’s face. “Take what you want by force, just like all the rest!”

“The strong must take from the weak,” Apocalypse said simply. “And if you are not strong, you are weak.”

“ _You’re_ the weak one,” Charles said, trying not to feel the hands on his back, trying not to tense up because this was going to happen and he couldn’t stop it so he had to let it, he had to make it as painless as possible. “You’re weak and I am sorry for you because you know nothing of true strength.”

Apocalypse didn’t respond, except in movement. Charles closed his eyes as he felt the thrust, felt the burst of pain deep inside him. Felt Apocalypse’s fingers rake down his shoulders, his back, forcing him down onto the rock. The power was still there but it was threatening, menacing, weighing him down. He was trapped, he was trapped and he couldn’t escape, couldn’t get away …

_This is how he wants me to feel. Fight him. Fight!_

He squeezed his eyes shut, gritted his teeth. He was strong. He _was_ strong. This was an experience, a terrible experience but one that he could survive. He would get through this and it would not break him and he wouldn’t think about how it felt to be totally helpless, he wouldn’t think about the rocks grazing his arms and chest, he wouldn’t think about the fact that through his pain, there was still sickening arousal, he wouldn’t think about the fact that people were watching this humiliation, that _Erik_ was watching this and he wouldn’t look at Erik, he wouldn’t because he couldn’t bear to see Erik’s face while this was happening …

No, he wouldn’t think about that. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t think of anything except how this would be over (oh God, it would, wouldn’t it? He remembered talking to Hank once about his new stamina, Hank admitting that he could masturbate for hours without orgasm, oh God, God no, not that, he couldn’t bear it …)

 _Submit!_ Apocalypse’s voice boomed in his head and Charles grabbed at it, desperate to fight, desperate to push his way in and stop this but he couldn’t, the shields were too powerful, he could only reach what Apocalypse was offering and that was nothing but coldness and weight and demands. There was no trace of sympathy or understanding or hope. Only the simple fact that Apocalypse would do what was required to get what he wanted and nobody else mattered and Charles was nothing but a tool to him and right now, nothing but a weak, weak tool ....

He could cope with this. He could survive it. He _would_ survive it, he would get through this and he would live through it and it would just be something else he’d survived, like Cuba and the years of his alcoholism and despair. Something that he could perhaps even use to help others some day, although he would have to keep Jean away from it, she didn’t deserve to accidentally read – 

_Jean_.

Like this, he couldn’t reach her. He knew that. He was in Cairo, she was in America, it was too far, even for him – even for her with all her strength and skill. But with Apocalypse’s power boost …

“Stop!” he choked out and it was too easy to make his voice shake, too easy to make it a desperate sob. “Please!”

“You will deliver my message?”

“Yes,” Charles said weakly.

Apocalypse moved back. Charles felt his clothes slowly reform around him, as if they had never gone. Apocalypse turned him over, almost gently and smiled down at him. His own armour was back, as though it had never been moved. Almost as though that violation had almost been a horrifying dream.

But it hadn’t been. And when he looked at Erik, Erik’s face was a cold mask.

But there was a tiny trace of horror there. A tiny trace of the Erik that he knew, struggling out of his haze of pain, horrified at what he’d witnessed.

That was something.

The power flickered around him, enhancing him. Charles let it in, let his mind reach out and began reciting the words that Apocalypse dictated. It was easy to gently siphon off some of that power. Easy to reach carefully out through the world and whisper. He didn’t know if Jean could hear – Apocalypse’s power was too strong, too all-encompassing to find even Jean’s bright fire. But she would. He was sure she would. Because he was strong and Jean was strong. And she and the others _would_ find him.

He wasn’t alone. 

“Those with the greatest power … protect those without.”

He lifted his head, met those cold, emotionless eyes with defiance.

“That’s _my_ message to the world.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Perhaps It Was a Dream](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8096266) by [cheezybananaz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheezybananaz/pseuds/cheezybananaz)




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